The Trade Off
As the responsible male of the family, it was about that time of the day to pick up the mail. Placing down the barrels he had carried to the barn, the red harvester hangs up his signature harness on its ancient hook. Really need to get a new one, but what didn’t need remodeling around here? However, it was better to maintain the important things than worry about a personal want.
Leaving the shade of the enclosed barn, the heat wave outside bears down on the worker pony; the contrast most unkind. A nice dip in a lake would be a hoot or getting a drink in town. Mmm, he could taste the “cider” meeting his lips, quenching his thirst. Yet, how could he be so greedy as to let his family go without his assistance? With the way his sister was such a workaholic, the likelihood of another repeat of her venture to clear the orchard herself would be inevitable. The strong but silent pony couldn’t go through that again.
Waking down the rolling green hills of longtime home, Sweet Apple Acres, put his mind at easy. Lush green trees, bright red apples ready for plucking an’ eating, and all them cute little critters made any worry go away. Any sacrifice would be worth it to keep this place the way it was.
The mailpony gave a quick goodbye before flying off on grease-like wings. T’was a shame that tall yellow fella with the curly mane didn’t come out to deliver his mail much. If there was any extra paper around maybe he could leave it here for him? Nope- Best to just give it to the friendly colt in person. Definitely don’t want a repeat of what happened with Braeburn and his first crush. Now that was weird.
Carrying the hefty stack of mail inside, the counter was immediately assaulted by yellow, green, and orange blurs. Stacking off the daze, only a few parcels remain. Bills, of course… Actually, there was one that caught his apple’s eye. “Big Mac,” the envelope read, hoof-written too.
Curious but not wanting a random happenstance to ruin his letter reading, the quiet tiller slips away into his room. Thought abound at its contents. Why, maybe that mail pony with the curly brown mane finally saw how he felt?! The stallion opens the letter, on the brink of giggling like a filly.
Dear Big Macintosh,
We are currently seeking new, non-apple related, business ventures and would like to them run by somepony such as yourself. This is a task only you can perform.
Sadly, we are not at liberty to disclose the project to you in detail. However, we can assure you that it will be well worth the investment. Once you’re here we will share the information on the job with you.
Included is one train ticket. Please give the matter some thought.
We really need you and you alone.
Hope to see you there.
Sincerely,
Flim and Flam
Flopping on his bed in disappointment, the lover boy suckles for a moment. He got his hopes up again. Someday mysterious mail pony. Someday. Your locks will know what true love is. A hoof reaches toward the ceiling.
Still, despite their initial encounter, the prospect of making a bit extra coin was tempting. If he could pull his own weight, why, the farm might actually be better off. It would be so simple to have another source of income and help out. He couldn’t be greedy after all.
A large factory building sat on the corner of a street in Manehatten. Staring at it from across the street with a glare of contempt, the weary pony finds it hard to move his hooves another step. Those emerald eyes lock onto the refurbished strip of former stores as if doing so would burn that place to the ground. However, that did not change the situation any. This had to be done.
Crossing the street in the sea of bustling ponies around him, his goal remains in sight. Two garages were to the left of the main entrance. It was easily identifiable as an old book store with its old style modeling and remnants of the previous structure. That and a faded book logo on the glass.
With the ring of a silver bell, the country boy enters the refurbished building. Groans of old floor boards creak under his mass and hard clops echo as Mac steps in. Devices of all sorts littered shelves to his right. A desk preludes what he could imagine was an office.
Careful to not “stomp” too hard, Big Mac walks his way over. The receptionist held a gossip magazine by magic and didn’t even glance up.
“Uh, excuse me, ma’am.”
A blue unicorn with a white mane and purple eyes gaze at him disinterestedly. “Big Mac is here, boys,” she says into a microphone.
“Thank you, Miss Trixie.” A tall, blonde coated unicorn with a curly red and white and striped vest stood in the doorway. “Come on in,” he beckons with a friendly flick of his hoof.
Giving a brief, thankful glance back to the receptionist, Big Mac made his way into the private area.
The interior was very well decorated. Shelves filled with books, two cherry wood desks (in an “L” shape), and fancy chairs made a good portion of the proper furniture. There were a few lesser quality benches dedicated to what looked like plans and inventing. A mustached unicorn is seated across from the entrance.
“Ah, so good to see you again,” the unicorn says as he stands up, “If you don’t recall, he’s Flim.”
The clean shaven pony nods, “And he’s Flam.”
“The world famous, Flim Flam brothers.”
Big Macintosh rolls his eyes, flicking his wispy mane.
The brothers chuckle in memory of their travels and catchphrase. After their moment of levity, Flim slides a chair slightly closer. “Please take a seat,” he says punctually.
Wiggling in place, the stocky male sat in the small seat. Big Mac places his hooves in his lap. A very stylized piece of craftsmanship, the chair seemed like something in one of those fancy spas back home. It was made very ornate wood, with delicate carvings in it and seemed very sturdy. Despite its glamour, it wasn't the most comfortable chair ever. Its green cushions felt too leathery for his liking. It could really use a higher back too, the apexes were around the sides of his neck. Thankfully, the chair could support his frame, excluding its "classy appearance. A handy leg rest was there too, if not fully extended.
“If you think I have any way of selling you Sweet Apple Acres, I’m not the pony to talk… That and I could nev-“
Flim and Flim grin at each other.
“Now now, no need to worry about that,” Flim says
“We’ve abandoned the apple game,” his brother picks up. Flam leans into the bashful stallion, “However, we need a strapping lad such as you to test some of our new products.”
Big Mac stares into the leaf green eye for a moment. “Now what exactly makes me qualified to do t’at?”
“It’s simple really,” Flim confidently began. “We need to put our new inventions through the wringer so to speak.”
“After all, you did put the Super Speedy Cider Squeezy 6000 to the test with your family back in Ponyville.” The colt with the straight mane makes a passing glance over the apple bucker’s frame. “That, and you’re probably the strongest pony I or my brother have laid eyes on.”
“Indeed,” Flim too takes a gander of Big Mac, “We’d pay a pretty bit to have you around.”
Big Mac glanced to the side. Partly from the importance placed on him by the pair and thinking about how important he is on the farm. He stammers, “I-I appreciate offer, but I couldn’t just abandon ma’h blood fu’r money.”
“Oh nonono,” the mustachioed brother comforts, “We completely understand. After all, family bonds are unbreakable.”
Flim nods in agreement.
“We’d pay you on commission.” A handy, oversized calendar appears out of nowhere. “We make improvements on a particular project we’re working on and-“
“You’d come in say every other week or so, visit funded by us of cours-“
“Brother.”
“Yeeees?”
“I thought we agreed t-“
“Stop finishing each other’s sentences!”
Flam gives him a disappointed stare, “That, and I’d give this part of the presentation.”
Flim gave a tiny smile before silencing himself, not wanting to have a brotherly spat in-front of the new client. Well, not in the beginning stages anyway.
“As I was saying, on commission, and you’d only have to come once and awhile, on your own time. When you’re ready, we’ll provide everything you’ll need to come here.” Flam smiles with a practiced confidence.
“T’at would mighty kind of ya actually,” the potential employee admits. “But the big question is- what would I actually be testin’?”
Coins flop from a very well-placed bag onto Flim’s desk, almost as if he planned for it to spill open. His eyes simple pointed to the sum of coins accompanied by a head nudge.
A twinkle emerges in the grove inside Mac’s wondering eyes. He quickly found keeping his jaw from flopping open to be a hard task. His lips betray his thoughts, mouthing “woah” in silence.
Green magic brings forth another hidden surprise of three glasses of orange liquid. Two of the three were small beakers while the third was more like a normal cup.
“Oh we have various interests,” a pure white smile shines through Flim’s muzzle. “Most of our products are more personal machines with practical equipment.” He laments, “Props, accessories, toys…”
“However, we also dabble in drinks as well.” Flam takes one vial and the large cup, leaving the latter one dangling in-front of their guest. “Here, have a taste.”
Licking his lips, the hard worker was parched. “I-I’m not sure how I fit in in all this,” he takes the drink in his sizable hooves. “But, I think I could give this here a shot,” Mac says with a nod.
“Cheers,” the brothers chim together; raising their glasses together they take all it down in one swig.
Giving the glass a tentative lick, the second it touches his tongue its tangy flavor seemed to give Macintosh a “zingy” feeling; his coat stood on end. Smacking his lips it tastes kind of like orange juice. Following the brothers lead, the newly inducted employee takes a healthy gulp.
Flam takes the glass and places it aside. “Has some kick doesn’t it?”
“Y-yeah,” his already red face felt warm under his coat. Glancing back to Flam, his expression was all too knowing.
Undoing his tie, Flam moves ever so closer to Mac. “Your freckles look rather smashing…”
“What, uh, brought that up?” The colt leans back into the chair.
“Apologies. They just look really nice on you.”
“Feeling a bit hot under the collar??” Flim chimes, undoing his own constricting garment.
A hard blush starts to shine through the rosy fur of the bulky male. His breath becomes labored. Trying to speak up, now very curious what that drink was, he is swiftly silenced by sudden contact on his lips.
Flam groans into Mac’s mouth, exchanging pleasantries with a quick quip of his forceful tongue, not too rough though. That would be ungentlemanly. A fond hoof washes over Mac’s frizzy mane.
Snickering, the other brother stands aside washing the display. His face mirrors that of the pair, flushed and eyes half-lidded. “Gosh brother, so forward,” Flim taunts. Skin-tone, white marbled meat starts to slide out of his exposed sheath, his brother’s forcefulness getting to him.
The hazed eyes of the drugged where wide open from the sudden make out session. Not that he really could object to an increasingly more arousing man smooches him. That mustache was amazingly silky too.
Pulling off with a panting release, the two stare into each other’s emerald eyes for but a second. Before a witty phrase or word could be uttered, a hard force pulls Flam back in. The strong muscle in Big Mac’s mouth flails inside of the twin’s mouth.
“Oh my,” the voyeur comments, his cock smacks against the open vest. Giving a mischievous grin, Flim strokes his shaft to keep the lust inside him flowing.
Mac takes the audacious colt’s kisses and giving spirited motions of his own. The more their burning lips touched, less the molested pony cared about the sudden action. Each touch made his insides flutter; a growing wave of the butterflies starts to knock against his loins. His ebony sheath starts to take to the cocktail, swelling at a prominent pace.
Seeing his cue to move, the sideline brother readily slides over to his latest assistant’s side. A scrawny hoof touches that pillar of equine maleness, tracing its shaft from the mid-point to the fat flare. Why, compared to his hoof, it was at least three of them in diameter.
Stroking the gargantuan rod in his eager grip, Flim wraps its reckless girth in his clutches. Despite its denseness, it throbs rapidly with each tiny motion.
“My my, Big Macintosh,” his eyes take in every tiny vein and pour, “This thing must be ever so cumbersome.”
Flam reaches a hoof around the back of the seat. After a few seconds of fiddling, a flick of the wrist and gears whirl; the chair’s arms fall to the side and the support gradually leens until their guest is flat, comfortable, and lounging on their “bench.” The gentle lover manages to pull away from the frenzied colt. He places his hooves on either side of Mac’s longing face.
“Here, take a load off,” the inventor coos, a tad tipsy from the intense making out.
Leaf green eyes roll over Flam’s form. Gradually going down, he is met with the sight of his lower half being admired and another proud horsecock dangling just out of reach. Trembling, quiet moans escape the strapping working horse. His tongue lolls out, wanting to have another match with the dashing rival once more.
This strapping bachelor’s build was a rather intriguing. His bulging, well defined hooves showing through his vibrant red coat caught the inspecting brother. More than he would like his twin to be aware of. Even if the proverbial dice didn’t give him such an impressive physique, it was still gratifying to indulge in them and bask in their wake.
“See something tasty?” He whispers with an evil twitch of his mustache, tip toeing around. Lust drunk eyes continue to flows Flam’s bobbing member. Not wanting to disappoint, the salespony knocks on Big Mac’s door. Resting his equipment on the labor’s freckled face, he almost immediately receives a long, affectionate lick runs up his underside.
Standing up high on his hind hooves, unable to contain himself, Flim flops his turgid cock against the nightshade member. He blushes, seeing that his own manhood was only half as thick at its widest. Based on his experienced gaze, pillar of man’s head alone could easily encompass eighteen centimeters or more. Testing this hypothesis, his fore hooves use the comical pole as ballast for his exploration.
Dry lips are licked to salivation, the exposed colt feeling famished after that delectable drink. A keen drop of pre bubbles up to the surface, oozing down the head of stallion-hood with agonizing sloth. With an immense amount of patience, Big Mac waits for his meal by licking up the veined steam. The panting unicorn above him rocks his hips leisurely.
“H-how do you even use this?” The mesmerized admirer mutters, feeling every tiny bump on Big Mac’s biggest muscle. It gave and pulled forgivingly in his hooves. Flim tries in-vein to take the “apple” in one gulp, longing to taste it. Valiant effort proves no result higher than a very aggressive frothing of its outer rim and a few voracious licks across its tip.
A rush this vehement hadn’t come to the lonesome heart in far too remote time. Discovering a discarded Playcolt magazine and reading one for the first came to mind. Then almost immediately being caught by an equally young, maturing neighbor colt from across the fields. Shame Big Mac didn’t get to return the favor back then- it was a riveting experience and not bad for his first time to boot.
Being attended to at both ports was a first for the active apple bucker. Graciously, he licks at the present before him, rolling over the medial ring and swirling over the underside from sheath to tip. A moist morsel suddenly grasping against his embarrassing bits prompt a groan of approval. Mac’s lower-half waggles in place, fuzzy hind hooves begin to animate, fluttering in the air.
Flam gives a shiver as the voracious tongue at his wanting rod. The doting, wispy breaths on his coated mast remind the barely in-control male of just what their meeting was all about. Coarse hooves reach up, loosely hanging onto his haunches. Never wanting to keep anypony waiting too long, the gentlecolt backs up and presses himself against Big Macintosh’s lips.
Stringing his shaft against the bow of flesh, the enthusiast coos into the tremendous head. Movement was easy against the twitching pole; his tempered frenzy making any amount inhibition vanishes to the deep recesses of his thoughts. Rewarding such a loyal admirer, the well tasted bulge dribbles pre. Drinking up the pool, the fan boy graciously tastes it; the delight tasting of applesauce with a healthy amount of cinnamon. A moan overtakes Flim as it rolls over his tongue.
Returning the kisses, the pasture walker pushes hard against his pseudo-lover boy. Forgiving flesh easily passes his kissers and settles into his cozy estuary. The humble nubs on the modest rim tickle the back of his throat, boastfully taunting the entrance. His tongue hangs out, returning the playful gesture by egging the behavior on.
Growing tired of playing of just merely rubbing an easy-one out against the alpha rod, Flim pulls a small bottle from his all-purpose vest. Popping it open, a clear, fruity scented lube coats the mammoth penis. Whilst rubbing it in with his potion green magics, he lifts up the equally enormous kumquats before him. An amazingly well-kept rump reveals itself. Seeing the totally stacked rump up-close and personal was much better than the quick peeks at the door.
Doing his best, the meeker lad reaches under Big Mac to hike his fan-fairing flank up. Thankfully the boys had thought of this, and use another hidden lever to keep it in its natural position. Despite the effort of personally lifting their breeder on his own, Flim still enjoyed the idea of doing it. Leisurely, if a bit sloppily, their un-tested lubricant manages to give the puffy amber ring a proper greasing treatment.
Sudden movement down-below causes the working man to jump an inch, straddling him some. With a gasp, an abrupt thrust sends the drenched cock down his throat. Amazingly, Big Macintosh makes no gag or sound of discomfort. Taking a swift breath from his nose, the numb boy starts to inhale the dick.
“Ohhhh my,” Flam moans. Rolling his head side to side, he cringes from the sudden rapture. Caught between hot and cold, his hips fight his “proper” instincts. They traverse over the rippled hills of Big Macintosh’s palate; founding new ground in the name of his own pleasure with each thrust. With such a gracious oral reception at each stop, sure anypony would feel welcome to come back.
Letting the giant prop out slide of his grip, it almost smacks his poor brother right in the face. Thankfully his loving associate was enjoying himself to care. Biting his lips while taking up new controls, the clean-cut suitor presses his oiled piston against its looming target. After a tense second of force, the slot gives way with easy to Flim’s “meager” rod. Not wanting to seem faint, his muzzle presses into the fallen pillar; his entire blissful agony jolts to lighten rod.
Transfixed by stallion cock coming and going in his mouth and trying to taste more of his boss’ piquant seed, the rear entry makes the bright red farmhand’s expression blush pink. A high-pitched murmur fills the dousing stick with vibration. In return, the grateful folk give him a bulging neck and a hearty sack to pat his mane with. His fore hooves coil around his security colt, air dwindling with every second.
By the time sweet, sweet air filled his windbags, the unmitigated force of worship had worked up enough gumption to release its steam. Accompanying a volley of courteous laps of his manhood, every inch sinks itself into his spilt rectum. Assimilated to the tool like two pieces of metal welded together, the penis felt hoofmade just for him. Every minor etching could be felt scraping against his passage with astounding accuracy for taught nerves. Exuberant hind legs magnetize together, wanting to keep everything tightly wound in-place.
Seeing a misplaced tool unused, it only takes a moment of ruminating to decide what to do with it through the haze of drunkenness. A precariously lengthy drop of sauce is cleaned up before Flam inspects the rest of the dispenser. Leaning into his station, the thinker notices another leak bubbles to the surface and treats it promptly. Cinnamon was always one of his favorites. Not wanting to waste this gift, he takes his merry time, holding out for more.
Not wanting the dick in his mouth to pull out just yet like its twin had, a vivacious suckling of the shaft inside him takes hold. The murky field worker could sense a flavor on the jizz sliding down his gullet. A mix of oranges and pineapple, the seed was probably the most delectable thing to grace his lips; dare he even say it surpassed apples. Each drop was like an injection of pure sweetness, it was almost malicious in nature. Need for breath was very low on the list of priorities.
A fretting nudges of urgency at his rear; Flim holds his tempered steel from the flames for only a few pokes before beginning anew. Kindling the flame, his steel club endures the furnace’s testing. Pulsing ebbs and flows of pressure embrace the imperfections of his maleness; showing its affections for his unique curves and hills. Those loving muscles give corrupt kisses to his every fiber, drawing out his deepest, most primal desires.
Other than sharing the same appearance and talents, the kin too seem to share a collective unconscious. Both return to the titan flare growing atop his mighty steed, smooching it in ernes; their entangled lips meeting together whether by blind concupiscence or a subtle perversion coming to light was uncertain. In full sync, the laid out plower was never without a seeder buried deep into his soil. Truly, the trio made a perfect cycle of perpetual stallion-stuffing.
Dripping pre like a faucet, the unbound passage relaxes full for Flim’s probe. Hooves hold his lanky waist for some semblance of grip. Sounds of popping ports, dangling bits colliding, and all other manner of impassioned noises fills the enclosed office space.
No matter of the mild numbness of his bowels, the injections of liquid ecstasy more than makes up for it. Stones full of the potent drug volley the subservient sower smack him at a focused quickness. Refurbished floorboards sulk from the fervent pace of the experiment with the chair stamps down out its resistance. However, anything not a part of rigorous mating is written off as white noise.
His maintained guise makes appeasing the rutting gearboxes effortless. Sucking straight from the tap, his cheeks concave from his deep thirst. The hose of ripe cum does a fantastic job of injecting the stuff into his stomach and coating his tongue liberally. Countless kisses on his flared tip send shivers down him, causing habitual spasms on the junk banging against his rear entrance.
Having broken the entire foundation, it was time to take the jackhammer and enjoy its frivolousness of a young foal. Plowing the hard toosh with fortitude only found in desperation, the tightly roped unicorn thrashes his entire length into his employee. Barely a blur, his nuts crash into and ripple the robust ass, aching and wanting to release.
Wet schlicks of flesh on flesh resonate from the humming throat below Flam. Brow dripping with sweat, his face falls off the applesauce machine. Taking a slothful rest from engorging himself, his gaze is filled with sight of his cock bulging Big Macintosh’s stretched out throat; head and ring jutting up to the surface. Such a lewd sight only makes the circuit in his cerebellum go topsy-turvy for plowing his personal masturbation aid.
Still working his holes like clockwork, the turbine of equine penis is so manic the harvester is never without a drippy rod for a few seconds. Beryl eyes are rolled back, glossy from persistent stoking. Each of his bosses crash against the touchy nerves; one patch in-particular in his anus sent blasts of elation to his mammoth shaft. With no room to spare, the bulbous flare railing against his protrusion milks the apple’s seed; legs quaking from such reckless hits.
Alien green light radiates from the pair of technical wizards. Flim only realized this after getting greedy for apple sauce, fumbling from his wild bucking, and giving it a sensual tonguing. His mustachioed partner shivers violently at the unbridled gesture. Wave like contractions around his dick wipe that error from his short term memory, causing his head loll back.
Energy surging in his horn, Flam’s waist smacks deep down the pole cleaner’s throat; with each pass he pauses completely buried inside, holding it until it’s too much bare. He whines with jubilee on his cries, mouth a gap. The twinge in his sack was now more of a dull soreness that begged for rest.
“I, gaw,” is all the charmer mutters before pile driving his cock in for one final dip.
An immediate froth of sperm cascades itself down Big Mac’s un-expecting but grateful windpipe. Tensing up from the surprise, he clasps down reflexively on the intruder in his rump. It thrashes as best it can, mashing his button like dinner bell. The pony behind it is lassoed taut to his frame.
Finally, the controls shatter, and a tidal wave of ejaculate blasts forth from his remarkable member. Hormones on overdrive, the white fountain glazes the hapless romantic’s face; among his mane, chest, and even part of his flank. Flexing with each new shot, the loose cannon flails around, continuing to coat Flam and its owner’s front.
In an instance, the rear entrance is completely closed off. His own limits reached, Flim succumbs to his thirst. Pony semen fills the taut crevasses. Yet, despite the snug fit, the force of the blasts sends remnants gushing past his blunt tip; projectile cum overflows, trapping the excess between his waist and pony plot.
Riding out his orgasm and looking for support, Flim grabs at the immediate area; finding that beam before him, he pulls it instinctually to his chest. Blind with mindless release, his face finds itself in the path of a gushing hose and receiving a buffet of his own. Sizable puddles of strands fall of to the side onto the floor during the hasty move.
Big Macintosh’s gaze fades to as exhaustion takes hold. Multiple weights fall upon his barrel chest in the last moments of consciousness. Cozy, rest takes his battered body on a wagon ride of soothing dreams.
“W-woah,” the co-owners utter in unison.
Pulling out of the idly sucking pump, Flam’s flesh-tone phallus leaves a slim trail over the orchard worker’s brow; a tiny pool of spit and cream forms on the floor.
“I’d say that was very successful test run,” Flim says as his hoof wipes the spilled cum from his face (and sneaking a quick taste).
Trying to recompose, Flam’s weakness still shows in his walk. “Agreed,” he replies, “We picked a good subject.”
“Remember brother, it’s dangerous to date employees,” Flim says with a smug look on his face.
Glaring back, he blushed a little as he looks over the passed out hunk. “Like when you almost got caught wanking to men’s swimsuit mags before a meeting?”
“Hey! I thought we agreed that didn’t happen,” the embarrassed male spits back like an insulted foal. Casually pulling out of his self-appointed hole, he retorted, “Besides it all worked out in the end.”
Just as battle of wits is about to commence, the office door quickly opens and shuts.
“Ah good you’re done. I could barely hear you over that gadget, or whatever you were showing off.”
The brothers stand there like deer in a lantern’s path.
“Anyway, we just got a letter from Mr. Rich just send up the chec-,” Trixie looked up from her scheduling check board, reeling back against the door.
A sight of absolute perversion lays out before the poor girl. Scents of sex fully hit her. Ejaculate coats, well, everything. The magnificent thing that had passed through her door a time ago now sat in a spent stupor; comatose on the chair, he had white all over his front, face, and rump that drips down his sides. Large, puddle like that after a heavy storm lay on either side of him; trails of wetness lead to the unprofessional hoodlums, their penis still dripping the stuff. The ceiling even had a few sticky sploshes of cum on it. By the Princesses, how much semen can three stallions muster!?
“Sheesh guys… If you were going to do that, you could’ve just locked the door,” the receptionist says matter-of-factly.
“Uhh…” Flim tries to speak.
“Whatever. Just get this place looking professional again. Next appointment is in forty-five minutes.”
With that and a quick about-face, the busy girl returns to her duties, leaving the two to their business.
“So… What brought about licking my horn?”
It had only been a day since Big Macintosh had taken up his side job, feeling great about the work he had put in. Yes sir, good hard work. Explaining why he walked funny to the family was a tad challenging. After a few questions about his new line of work though, the family thankfully drops the subject. They did comment on his discomfort when sitting a few times, be he assured them it was fine.
Standing in the barn the pony smiles at his refurbished harness. With its shiny new hooks finally the tool sits on its rightful throne for all its service. Tomorrow he could even put a new coat on the barn after his rounds.
Noticing it was that time again, Mac hobbles down the trail to the family mailbox. Off in the distance, the mailpony there still hadn’t scurried off. Not thinking much of it he gets within a proper range to speak.
“Howdy there,” he says, “there” lingering at the sight before him.
“Why, hey yourself, Big Mac!” A tall colt, with a curly brown mane cheerfully blurts out. “Got a package for ya.” He presents a clipboard and pen to sign for the parcel.
“Thanks,” he says giving the pen back. Kicking at the ground playfully, his eyes darted between the mailpony and the ground. “S-so, where you been? Use to see ya deliverin’ all the mail down here.”
“Oh, I had to move to Manehatten. I got a nice paying job at a delivery company over there.”
Big Mac’s ears flip at the mention of the city. “Ya don’t say.”
“Mhmm,” he nods, “Sorry if I made you worry ‘bout little ol’ me.”
“Nah, tis fine,” the country boy says smoothly, leaning against the sturdy mailbox. “Would be nice if ya came around a bit more, uh.” Words suddenly escape him as he tries to think of a pet name or anything to say.
“Oh golly,” the peppy mailpony gasps, “It just occurred to me- I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself!”
The apple worker puts on his best poker face, hiding his curiosity and excitement.
“Name’s Love Letter,” he says with a smile.
Red fur thankfully hid the dull blush starting to form.
“I’ll actually probably be coming around this way more. My new job has me delivering express mail and packages. I ride the train with the mail and deliver like a local mailpony would.”
“That’s good to hear. Perhaps we can get to know each other?”
Love Letter barely thinks, “Well sure! Always love making new friends.” Checking his pocket watch he steps back, “Gosh! I gotta run, nice talkin’ to you.”
“See ya around, Love Letter.” Mac waves him off.
As the busy bee disappears over the horizon, Big Macintosh inspects the package. Seeing it’s from his new job, he took it to the solitude of his room. Opening the small note on side first, he reads it.
Dear Big Macintosh,
Enclosed is an alpha of one of our latest inventions for you to try out along with another batch of our drink. We’ve included a few extra bits in the package as well.
Please give it a few separate test runs and fill out the survey. Please leave detailed feedback. We look forward to seeing you again in-person next week.
Sincerely,
Flim and Flam
P.S.
As a company we’ve switched over to an express mailing company. Expect all future packages to be delivered exactly as they were today, via company courier.
The struck man re-reads the last line several times. Overcome with joy, he flops back onto his bed. Smiling from ear to ear, he couldn’t believe his luck. Giggling like a foal who just got a kiss from their sweetheart, Mac fondly looks forward to meeting his crush once again.
